


Compilation Error

by laireshi



Category: Marvel 616
Genre: Angst, Civil War, M/M, Reality manipulation, Unhappy Ending, holy shit what's happened to Tony?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-09 13:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8892343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laireshi/pseuds/laireshi
Summary: The first time Tony Stark kills Steve Rogers is an accident.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ranoutofrun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ranoutofrun/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [Compilation Error](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10261583) by [Celeste_030](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celeste_030/pseuds/Celeste_030)



> This fic takes place in the Marvel Civil War AU presented in Contest of Champions 009 and 010, but knowledge of the series really isn't necessary. You only need to know Civil War happens the way it does in main 616 universe.
> 
> Content warnings at the end.
> 
> Beta thanks to [Muccamukk](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Muccamukk/pseuds/Muccamukk) and [Comicsohwhyohwhy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/comicsohwhyohwhy)!
> 
> There's a Chinese translation available [here](http://www.mtslash.org/thread-221029-1-1.html) and [here](http://weibo.com/ttarticle/p/show?id=2309404066370261265552). Thanks to [celestewuu](http://celestewuu.tumblr.com/)!

The first time Tony Stark kills Steve Rogers is an accident.

***

Tony’s not there when the unthinkable happens. 

The last time he saw Steve, Steve yelled at him from inside his cell. The time before that, Steve smashed his faceplate in and raised his shield high, and Tony still remembers the terrible certainty that was it, his best friend was going to kill him—but the war had already nearly destroyed them both at that point, and Tony was tired, so very tired, death would’ve been a welcome respite. 

He’s the Director of SHIELD now. He tells himself he has other, more important duties; the truth is he doesn’t want to once again be reminded of what was left of his and Steve’s friendship. 

So it happens like this: the whole world watches Captain America being led to his trial, and the whole world sees him assassinated on the courthouse steps. Tony has full thirty seconds of blissful ignorance before the calls start, before Extremis shows him the recording in bright HD. 

He has all eternity, after that, to rewatch it, zoom in the image, slow it down, see the bullet going right through Steve’s heart. 

Rewind, again and again, until the truth of it is carved into his mind.

***

He doesn’t consciously remember the moments after. Extremis does—Extremis saves everything into the hard drive of his brain—but Tony’s not particularly interested in accessing those files.

_Steve, falling down, Steve, bleeding out, Steve—dead_

When Tony comes back to himself, his office is trashed, his computer that’s mostly there for show only displays white lines on black background, _STEVEISDEAD_ or _MYFAULT_ or _ITWASN’TWORTHIT_ , and Tony himself is huddled in a corner, tears on his face. He punches through the screen the moment he’s able to stand up and reach it, and then, still shaking, he makes sure he hasn’t pushed Extremis onto any other terminal.

He leans against the wall—his chair is broken—tries to think and can’t. 

_Steve is dead_.

And Tony was wrong, earlier: the war _has_ destroyed them both. Why hadn’t Steve brought the shield down when it mattered? 

Every terrible thing Tony’s done, and for nothing. 

Steve is dead, and Tony can’t fix it.

 _But he can_ , his traitorous mind thinks, and Tony pushes it away, and away; he could destroy the world like that.

Steve—he couldn’t do that to Steve.

***

He’s in full armour. Just in case, of course, not because he can’t stand the thought of being _out_ of it.

The SHIELD meeting he’s at is discussing the details of Captain America’s funeral.

Tony makes it five minutes before he all but runs out of the room, and it’s Extremis steering his steps to the bathroom more than any rational thought. He takes off his helmet, falls to his knees in front of a toilet and is violently sick. Distantly, he wonders how that’s possible—he can’t quite remember when he has last eaten. 

_Funeral_.

Steve can’t be dead.

Tony stays there, until all he can do is dry-heave, and he’s so exhausted he might as well be drunk, and he hates himself for the thought. 

He wants Steve to come in an reassure him, but Steve never will.

Unless . . . No.

He wants to drink, to make himself forget, just for a while, and he cries, he punches the floor hard enough that it cracks under the armour’s strength, and he’s being pathetic, he’s in the helicarrier, and he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care about anything at all.

Steve’s dead and it’s Tony’s fault, and nothing, _nothing is_ worth it, and Tony has to tell Steve that and _can’t_.

(He _could_ ).

He gathers himself up, avoids looking into the mirror as he washes his face, and then he pulls the helmet back on. 

***

 _It wasn’t worth it_ , he thinks, he can’t stop thinking, _it wasn’t, it wasn’t_ , but maybe if he pretended to tell Steve—maybe it’d help—maybe it’d make something, anything better . . . 

He goes to the helicarrier morgue. There are two agents in front of the door, and Tony has enough of a presence of mind to say, “I’m your director, didn’t you get the memo?” instead of just fighting his way in.

He sees Steve’s body, cold on the slab, in torn uniform, with the bullet holes—

Tony shakes. He can’t do it. He can’t.

He can fix it, though, and then—then he’ll have Steve, and they’ll deal with the rest later, together.

***

He knows it’s wrong, and he doesn’t care, because it’s the single most right thing he could do now. 

He flies to the Tower. 

_Steve, falling down, Steve, bleeding out, Steve, cold on a slab, Steve, ashen and dead_

Nononono.

He crashes through the windows into his bedroom, silences the alarms going off in the Tower. His left gauntlet falls off at his wish, and then he’s reaching into his drawer. 

The Gem shines bright yellow, almost gold. He cradles it in his hand carefully, as if he could break it. It’s not the Time Gem, so he can’t just go back in time—to stop the war? To be there to save Steve, take the bullet for him? He’s not sure what he’d do, and it’s a moot point, because the Reality Gem in his palm is warm, comforting, and Tony only needs one thing.

_Steve Rogers, alive._

He gets his wish, and realises the problem a second too late.

Steve’s in his room, suddenly, moving, breathing—Extremis does indeed say he’s _alive_. The _how_ of it is a mystery, because _the bullet holes are still in his body_ and he’s got the same shredded clothes as in the morgue, his skin sickly white, and—

Tony shoots him before he even notices where he is, and Steve falls down, just like in the recording Tony’s seen so many times, except now it’s in Tony’s bedroom, and _Steve’s getting up_. He’s getting up again, immediately, with the hole in his chest. He’s not speaking, he’s just— _looking_ , with his terribly blue eyes, and Tony can’t stand it, aims the repulsor at Steve’s head, fires.

Tony’s shaking, and the Gem is still in his hand, and he just wants it to stop as Steve starts moving again.

Steve stills. Tony closes his eyes tight. He can’t look. It’s all wrong.

He killed Steve, he knows, but it’s not important, he’ll fix it. He’ll fix it. He’s a mess, barely able to move, but he knows what he’s done wrong, and he knows he won’t rest until he gets it right.

He’s trying to make himself breathe, and another thread of his thoughts wonders about the Gem. It’s like having the source code to the reality itself—Tony has to be exact, here. 

He doesn’t just want Steve alive. He wants a world that is _right_. A world where Steve has never died at all.

There’s something like a vision: he knows he’s standing still in his bedroom, Extremis tells him as much, but he can also see himself and Steve on a battlefield, metal fist meeting the shield, infinite war going on, fires around them—

Tony snaps out of it. He can still smell the smoke, and he thinks, _no_. A world where they stopped fighting. 

His mind is clear. He thinks, _a world before SHRA, without SHRA_ , and discards it immediately. The Registration would always come, in one way or another. That war would always come. _A world where he agreed with me_ , Tony thinks and feels sick at himself. He can’t do that to Steve. Can’t forcibly change his mind like that.

How about this, then, and he closes his fingers around the Gem, _a world just like ours, where the war ended, and Steve Rogers wasn’t assassinated._

And the reality reshapes itself around him.

***

Tony shudders violently. For a few seconds, he can’t see; there’s nothing but white noise in his ears. He blinks, jerks, his hands close around themselves. He feels something in his right hand, and then finally is able to see: a yellow gem, shining bright.

It’s like whiplash, when memories set in, and he gasps, scrambles for Extremis to show him a recording of Steve—

Of Steve’s trial. Of Steve, safe and sound in the court, visibly tired, but _alive_.

Alive.

Tony did it. 

He lets out a slow breath. It doesn’t feel quite real, but he’s browsing all the media feeds, and they all agree Captain America is giving his testimony now. There’s nothing about assassinations. Nothing about Steve bleeding out at the court steps. 

The Reality Gem is warm in Tony’s fingers, but he knows he won’t quite believe it until he sees Steve himself. See that thing are—not _right_. Nothing is right. They still fought. They still aren’t friends, and won’t ever be again. But Steve’s alive.

That’s enough. It has to be.

(Here’s what’s real: the sick feeling of aiming his repulsors at Steve, the sight of them hitting him, the smell of burnt flesh, and Steve’s face, white, shocked.)

If Tony doesn’t go see him now, he can at least pretend things are fixed, can’t he?

***

The world doesn’t let him pretend for long.

Steve pleads guilty, like he’s _daring_ the judge to lock him up. Like he doesn’t realise what it’ll do to everyone, to see Captain America in jail. 

Maybe he doesn’t. He didn’t seem to realise what his support or lack thereof could mean for others, either. 

(For Tony; he’s never realised what it means for Tony.)

Tony’s called in to testify, and he hates it, hates he’ll be forced to see Steve—hates that it might mean _he won’t see him_ , only a corpse walking around, like in his apartment in the Tower, hates that it’s the one occasion where he has to wear an actual suit and face questions.

 _It wasn’t worth it_ , he thinks with every step, forcing himself not to shiver, wondering why Extremis can’t still keep his emotions in check the way it seemed to do before the war. 

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Carol asks him just outside of the courtroom.

Tony smiles at her, tilting his head just slightly. Good angle for the pictures that flash around them. “Yes,” he says, all fake confidence. Carol frowns, but she can’t exactly stop him now.

Opening the doors is like a sentence all in itself. It’s an inhuman effort to make himself step through them. But then he sees: Steve, whole and beautiful. Steve, alive.

Tony isn’t sure why he trusts his own eyes more than he trusted Extremis and written reports on his desk, but he does. He does. 

He forces himself not to break into a smile as he goes on to answer questions and repeats, over and over, that Steve should be pardoned. That he’ll serve the community better if he’s allowed to be an Avenger. That surely doesn’t deserve to be punished.

Steve’s face is clouded, his fists closed. The cuffs on his wrists are Tony’s work. 

There are whispers as Tony leaves the stand. There are weeks of trials to go through, still.

He’s a futurist. He knows where it’ll go.

He can fix this, too. He can fix everything. He shouldn’t, but— _he could_.

It’s almost like drinking, he thinks distantly, so much more potential to ruin everything, and he could fix this too, he could create a world with no alcohol, and this, this is a dangerous path to settle on. He knows how it goes: one sip, and then you never stop. Whiskey or power, there’s little difference. 

Tony can be stronger than that.

He can feel Steve’s eyes on him all the way out.

***

Tony has it all prepared: the whys, the advantages, the statistics, speeches about what Captain America means to people. 

“Stark, I don’t think I need to tell you why I’m refusing it,” the president says. 

It’s true, he doesn’t—Tony can list all of the reasons why pardoning Steve Rogers is a terrible idea, starting with _Steve doesn’t want it_. But Steve doesn’t want many things, and he’s _needed_. The world needs him. Tony needs him. Not locked up like a criminal, but out here, doing good.

“Right, sir, thank you,” Tony says. His brain operates on pure automatic as they finish the call. 

Tony keeps the Reality Gem close to him, just in case; he can feel it now, in his wrist compartment, pulsating with power. He wants to use it; he’s not even sure _how_. To change the president’s mind? To give _himself_ the power?

The thought gives him a pause. He’s a good politician, even if he hates it. But he could—he could do good with more power, he could . . . 

_No he couldn’t._ He didn’t ask to be the director of SHIELD, and no one asked him if he wanted the job, either. He definitely doesn’t need more influence, and yet, there’s a small voice at the back of his head, spinning all the various scenarios at him, whispering what he could do if he wasn’t so limited . . . 

Push them into a bigger disaster than SHRA, probably, even if he can’t quite imagine what _that_ could be. Steve died for it. Tony won’t ever forget it.

The helicarrier alerts go off, and Tony’s immediately on his feet, running to the control room even as he accesses the details with Extremis. 

No rest for the wicked.

***

The mission wasn’t even difficult, but he had paperwork to fill after it, and then another call came, and another; it’s not that Tony’s _avoiding_ sleep, it’s just that he doesn’t really have time for it. He nods off, sometimes, in the rare moments when nothing requires his attention, and wakes up screaming, remembering Steve dying at Tony’s hand. 

_It’s not real_ , he tells himself over and over again, but repeating the words doesn’t help at all, because _it was real_ , once.

He’s not sure when the last time he got nearly enough rest was, but there’s a board meeting he must attend, and anyway, he’s fine, _he’s fine,_ except he’s really not.

He runs into Pepper in the Stark Enterprises corridor of the Tower and freezes. 

“I thought you were on a leave,” he blurts out.

Pepper doesn’t look at him. “I can’t run forever,” she says, a dare.

“And you shouldn’t have to,” Tony mutters.

Pepper gives him a weird look. “What did you say?”

She shouldn’t have to stand here, paler than usual, still wearing her wedding ring, missing Happy. She shouldn’t have to pay the price for what Tony destroyed. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’ll fix it.”

He’s not sure if she wants to yell at him or hit him, but it doesn’t matter: he has the Gem with him, as always, and he can’t believe he hadn’t thought of it before, but it’s okay, he’s going to fix it now. He’s an engineer, and that’s what he does.

It’s easy, to wish a reality where Happy’s still alive. 

Stopping, that’s the difficult part.

***

It’s small things, after that. 

Bill Foster shouldn’t have died. Thor’s clone shouldn’t have been deployed in that fight.

(Tony couldn’t make himself _not_ reach out to Steve though, even with the Reality Gem, he couldn’t change that, his unerring trust in Steve, not even as he remembers the agony of EMP resetting his systems.)

Small, unimportant things, to avoid fights, to reverse deaths, to make the war easier. Faster.

By the end of it, they no longer level down New York, fighting, but Tony goes against Steve all the same, and Steve takes him down and freezes before making this final strike. 

Sometimes, Tony’s tempted to change that, too, to finally free himself.

Steve surrenders, and Tony makes sure he makes it to the courthouse every single time, and then he’s in prison, and other unregistered heroes join him as Tony slowly changes reality, Spider-Man, Invisible Woman, the Punisher, all locked up. All safe.

*** 

The Mighty Avengers stop Ultron from taking over the world, and it’s been months since Tony fought with Steve at his side, and he still can’t get used to how he’s _not_ there.

It’s such a _waste_. Steve shouldn’t be rotting in prison. None of them should. 

_Thunderbolts Program_ , Tony thinks, and drafts the proposal even before he touches down on the helicarrier landing pad. 

He doesn’t bother taking off the armour—what’s the point, he thinks—as he sends it to the Secretary of Defence.

It comes back the next day, refused by Gyrich, and so Tony touches the Gem and creates a reality where Gyrich is no longer a problem.

The president refuses to sign it on the grounds of safety and letting superpowered convicts out, and—he’s democratically chosen, Tony can’t, he _can’t_ , that’s the one thing he won’t do, he won’t _influence_ anyone’s minds . . . But he can bring the term to a closer end, right.

He fixes Thor’s clone, and then it’s almost, almost as if even Thor was back, and he gives Natasha the Iron Spider suit, and Carol’s with him through it all, unchanged, because she always remained at Tony’s side—but with each change he makes, he can see her shoulders getting less tense, her face more relaxed.

It’s better this way for everyone, he thinks.

He captures the Mandarin before he can even make his first move, and doesn’t let himself lose any SHIELD operation—because it’s such a minor change to make the reality so that the mission worked out, every time, always.

The Gem either in his breast pocket or writs compartment, Tony Stark is the beloved director of SHIELD, and that’s when he announces he’s going to run for presidency.

It’s all going well, finally.

He hasn’t seen Steve since the hearing, all these realities ago.

***

He lands on the Raft in his full armour. He’s the director of SHIELD. He can damn well go talk to a prisoner on his own.

“Come on,” Tony says to the guards. “I can take care of myself.”

(Not against Steve, he can’t, he knows, thinking of Steve taking him down and beating him almost to death—but that was because Tony let him, because Tony never ever used his full lethal force against him.

Except the once. But that’s not happening ever again, and really, that has never happened.)

They don’t like it, that much is clear, so Tony adds, “I’m Iron Man, remember?”

So he gets it: the private meeting room, and no guard inside, save for camera. Tony loops it with Extremis, and then Steve’s being led in.

It’s electric, even being in the same room as him. Tony missed him so much it hurts. And now . . . Now he’s no longer sure what to say.

“What is it, Stark?” Steve asks.

And Tony doesn’t know what to say. There’s a reason he never tried to see Steve before.

There’s only so much he can do to deal with _Steve was dead_ and _I killed Steve_ and _The Reality Gem brought him back_.Nightmares always find their way to remind him, so he rarely sleeps. He keeps busy in his waking moments, always on a mission to stop himself thinking of Steve.

But now Steve’s right there, and Tony has to face it all.

He’s shaking. He locks the armour joints so that Steve doesn’t see. He just wants to reach out and touch Steve. He wants to make sure he’s really _whole_. But he can’t.

God, he shouldn’t have come here, he’s hyperventilating, and he has no idea what he wanted to say anyway . . . 

“Tony?” Steve asks, his voice different.

 _Tony_.

He can’t deal with that. “I wanted to talk about the Thunderbolts,” he says.

Steve chuckles. “No.” He then looks at Tony, and it’s as if he can see his expression even through the armour. But then Steve would be the one person capable of exactly that. “And that’s not what you wanted to say.”

“I—”

“I’ve heard you’re running for president, Director Stark. Is a little bit of honesty beneath you?”

It doesn’t even hurt, because it only means Steve’s here to say it.

But there is a thing Tony doesn’t understand, about Steve. “At the end of it . . .” he starts. “Why did you give up?”

Steve tenses. “You know why,” he says. “You were there.”

“Front row tickets,” Tony agrees bitterly. So many different memories in his head, but this one thing, the same.

Steve, punching him over and over again. Steve, breaking the faceplate. Steve, raising the shield, ready to kill.

“Take off your helmet,” Steve says, quietly. So different to the last time he demanded it.

Tony can’t refuse either way, but even with just his faceplate open, he feels naked and lost.

Steve’s eyes widen, as if in surprise. Tony refuses to wonder what he might be seeing. He doesn’t say anything, and Steve doesn’t, either; for a moment they just stand there, silent.

Then Steve looks away. “Everything was going in your favour anyway,” he says.

In this reality, Steve’s right.

“But then—I don’t know why you showed up, what did you expect to achieve . . .”

Exactly nothing, Tony thinks.

“I almost killed you,” Steve says bluntly. “You—you were my best friend, and I almost killed you.”

He’s gripping the table edges hard. At the back of Tony’s mind, Extremis is already running calculations, what the table is made of, how wide it is, what is the strength necessary to break it. 

Tony doesn’t care about that, because he’s staring at Steve in terror. “ _You almost killed me_?” he asks. He wants to cry or maybe laugh, he’s not sure.

“I can’t escape that,” Steve snarls. “I could never, _never_ forgive myself if I killed you. Don’t act like that’s a fucking surprise,” he adds, angrily. 

_I almost killed you_ , Tony thinks. It’s too much. He can’t deal with that, he giggles hysterically. 

Steve gets up. “Right, that’s it.”

Tony reaches a hand for him, but it falls back to his side almost immediately. “I killed you,” he says instead.

Steve looks disgusted. “Are you drunk, Stark? That would explain so many—”

“The war, all of it—it was my fault,” Tony said. “And you died, and it was my fault too.” He’s breathing too fast and his eyes are burning and he’s pathetic and _doesn’t care_.

Steve’s staring at him without a word.

“So I—I fixed it,” Tony says.

“You fixed it,” Steve repeats, his voice dripping contempt.

“I—it didn’t work,” Tony says. “It wasn’t—so I had to kill you. I had to kill you, and then bring you back, and then . . .”

He’s crying now and he can’t stop.

It was worth it. It had to be.

Steve’s on him, pushing him back until he’s holding Tony against the wall. Tony has the Extremis armour on, and can’t remember how to use it.

“You did what,” Steve whispers quietly, dangerously.

“It was the Reality Gem,” Tony lets out, brokenly. “It was for you, Steve. All for you.”

Steve lets him go as if burnt, and Tony falls to his knees. He expects to be punched, but for a moment nothing happens, like Steve can’t quite process, and when the blow comes, it’s not physical.

“Hasn’t Wanda taught you this particular lesson?” Steve spats. “You—you’re a sick man, Stark.”

Tony closes his eyes, but he can’t escape the truth of Steve’s words. 

“The—so I died. It’s not _yours_ to fix. You don’t—you don’t play with the world like that, like we’re your toys—is that how you always felt, Stark?!”

Tony shakes his head. It’s nothing like that. He just . . . needs Steve. So much. Tears are falling down his face, and he can’t really see through them, sobbing wrecking his body. 

“What else have you done, Stark?!” Steve yells. “What else?! Where did you _really_ start? The New Avengers team, or—god, you’re a monster.”

Tony can’t do it.

Steve hauls him back up like it’s no effort at all despite Tony being in the armour. His fingers dig under Tony’s chin, just where the open faceplate leaves his skin uncovered. “You’re exactly like the villains we’re supposed to fight,” he says. He looks terrified, really, and he hasn’t actually hit Tony, and it doesn’t matter, Tony’s terrified too, it can’t be like this, it _can’t_. Tony needs him. He does.

Tony _loves_ him. But that’s neither here nor there.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and then he puts his hand on Steve’s chest and fires the repulsor straight through his heart.

Steve stumbles back and there’s a split second before his body falls down with an empty thud. Tony slides to his knees and doesn’t look, can’t, won’t; instead he reaches for the Reality Gem, and he wishes, over and over, _fix it, fix it_. 

***

Tony’s in the room with Steve again, and this was not his definition of fixing it, he needs out, _out_ , but—

Maybe the Gem knows better. Maybe he _can_ fix it.

So he tells Steve the truth this time, calmly, as calmly as he can, and ends up at the ground, sobbing, and Steve doesn’t change his stance at all.

Tony kills him again.

Is in the same room, again.

Steve never understands, and Tony can’t let him remember, and so he kills him and brings him back and he loses the count, and it’s like a nightmare he can’t escape.

Finally, when he’s ready to put the repulsor to his own head instead, he catches himself.

Steve won’t understand anything. 

Tony doesn’t even talk to him. He uses the Gem again, and it’s as if he’s never tried to see Steve at all.

It’ll be better this way.

***

Florida always hesitates, even for him, and so Tony uses the Gem, and is elected president.

He has plans already, reforms to the budget and education, but mostly: safety.

He signs on his own Thunderbolts Program proposal, and it comes into life.

“So,” Carol says. “When will you go tell them?” 

Tony stiffens. “Tell them what,” he asks. He should paint his armour red, white, and blue, he thinks. The country’s colours. _Steve’s_ colours.

“Tell _Steve_ ,” she clarifies. “He’s going to hate it, you know, but—”

“I’m not,” Tony says. He’s already tried. He’s not repeating it. He—he can’t face Steve. Not yet. Possibly not ever. “You are.”

Carol’s a better friend to them all. They’ll listen to her. 

She’s looking at him with her eyebrows raised. “It’s _Steve_.”

“I know,” Tony says. “And he hates me. So it’s on you to convince him.”

The part that hurts is that Carol doesn’t even argue the point.

She does give Tony a quick hug, and then nods. 

***

Carol talks all of them into joining the program and Tony wants to kiss her.

Steve, predictably, refuses to be Captain America; refuses any code name at all. That’s also not surprising. Tony prepares him a uniform all the same, one that would protect him in battle as well as anything short of the armour would. 

The Thunderbolt Program is a success, and the public loves it: here it is, Iron Man, the President, forgiving his old enemies and still agreeing to using their powers for good.

Tony loves his PR team. 

He tries to program himself with Extremis to not need any sleep, but it doesn’t quite work like that, and every time he closes his eyes, he sees his hand pressed against Steve’s chest, the repulsor going straight through his heart.

(The worst, somehow, is still that first time: Steve going down on the courthouse steps, and Tony’s world shattering until all that’s left is dust.)

He looks at the bottle of whiskey that he finds in the Tower kitchen for a long time before pouring it out. He could just wish it out of the existence, but he’s too scared that if he did that, one day he would just wish it _back_.

He still runs missions with the Mighty Avengers. He hopes one of them will kill him.Steve does a lot of good on the Thunderbolts. Tony just takes care to never meet him on the battlefield. 

The world is finally right, and Tony doesn’t know why every breath hurts, why he’s feeling sick thinking about himself. He knows, he really does, that the first time around, just starting to fight Steve in the SHRA war—Tony couldn’t have hoped for such a good ending.

But somehow it feels like everything’s breaking around him, and he just can’t see what.

***

It’s the Registration Day, when things come to a halt.

Everyone thinks he loves it. He made it a holiday, after all, the anniversary of the Superhero Registration Act passing into law—and while normal citizens rejoice, Tony uses it as a reminder to himself, a reminder he doesn’t really need. SHRA brought him down, and even now, posing for cameras, all he can think of is Steve, bleeding out at the courthouse steps.

He has the armour on, officially for security reasons; really, he’s just glad no one can see his face.

The Hulk appears out of nowhere: older and stronger than Tony’s ever seen him before. He’s clearly not friendly, and Tony charges his repulsors, when the world around him changes. Then, he finds himself in a different place altogether, Extremis flashing warnings about sudden teleportation at him. His team is still around, at least, all the Mighty Avengers that are nothing like the original ones. If he thinks about it, it’s nothing new, a typical superhero Wednesday.

Tony blinks.

For a moment everything is fuzzy and he’s not sure where he is or why, then it comes back to him.

They got an alert from upstate: unregistered superheroes appeared. It’s a rare thing, these days, but it still happens, and Tony always tries to handle them himself, to set an example. There’s a group of five people before him, now. He doesn’t recognize any of them but Ares.

Tony trusts no one these days. “I’m a little teapot, short and stout,” he says. He’s got a little Extremis task set up to run every day, generating the current call signs. 

“What,” Ares replies, which is _not_ the counter-sign.

Tony _hates_ Skrulls. 

He pushes concerns about the real Ares aside, attacking the Skrull, near him, he can see Carol engaging with one of the rogue superheroes. The Ares-looking Skrull is good, but not good enough; they never are. Tony’s about to deal the final blow when a thunder startles them both.

“Who on Earth . . .” Tony says. Thor’s with them, who else could it be?

“Come on, Stark. Who do you think they sent?” It’s Steve’s voice, cutting, as always when they talk these days.

And this is _exactly_ why Tony hates Skrulls. Somehow, they always find his weakest spot. 

“We’re on an alien world in a broken dimension at the far edge of time and space. Finding and rescuing the president of the United States is—by any definition—a suicide mission,” Steve, not-Steve, says. “Only the Thunderbolts are expendable.”

 _Steve isn’t expendable_ , Tony thinks. He scolds himself immediately; it can’t be Steve, he shouldn’t care what a Skrull says . . . 

His thoughts are cut short when the Skrull who looks like Ares moves past him, fast, and puts his thunder right into Thor’s skull. Tony can’t quite understand it before another of the unregistered heroes spins around, throwing a dagger straight into Penance’s heart.

 _No_.

“Unhappen,” Tony mutters, reaching out to the Gem. “ _Unhappen_.”

But nothing happens; things don’t go back to how they should be.

Tony pushes off the panic. That’s okay. It’s too much, too fast, he’s just distracted by the sudden deaths, by that fake Steve; he can fight him first and then fix everything when he can just focus. _It’s okay_.

He propels himself forward, attacking the fake Steve before he could take someone else of Tony’s team out. “Hello, my name is Joe,” Tony says, trying the call sign. He doesn’t expect any answer and he’s aiming his repulsors already. 

“Countersign—I work in a button factory!” Steve yells. “I’m not a Skrull, Tony! This is real!”

Tony freezes.

“Something’s affected your memory, Tony,” Steve tells him, holding his shield up in front of him. As if Tony could strike at him _now_.

And what he said . . . That’s impossible. Tony has Extremis and the Reality Gem. Nothing can affect him. Which means . . . “Something affected _yours_.”

“I can’t believe your arrogance,” Steve spats. “Richards sent us—come on, Tony! Snap out of it! You got two people killed here already!” 

“I’ll fix it,” Tony tells him. 

“They’re _dead_ , Tony, there’s no fixing it,” Steve growls. “Just go with us before more people die.”

“Do you think it’s the first time this happened?” Tony snaps. He knows this won’t end anywhere good, but that’s okay; he will fix it in a moment, but first, he can let go of this terrible secret, he can share it, he can talk to Steve. Just for a few seconds—but that’s enough. It’s better than nothing. “You were killed on the courthouse steps. And I fixed it.”

And then he kept fixing it. Why can’t Steve _ever_ understand?

They’re in an emergency situation, now, so maybe Steve will be able to think past his initial reaction and maybe he will finally see Tony’s side here . . . 

“You’re either insane or a monster,” Steve says. He shifts on his feet, changing his grip on the shield.

Tony’s had enough of hearing that. “I brought you back to life before,” he says, “and I’ll do it again.”

Tony aims the unibeam at him and doesn’t even hesitate as he fires, the beam going straight through Steve’s chest.

He doesn’t look as Steve falls, because it doesn’t matter. He’s done it so many times already. He’s not naive enough to hope he won’t have to do it again: he will. As many times as it takes. He reaches for the Reality Gem’s energy, focuses. Wishes the world back to normal.

Nothing happens.

Tony looks around in horror. The Avengers and the unregistered heroes stopped fighting, all staring at him.

Tony tries to use the Gem again.

“Tony!” Carol yells. “Tony, stop!”

He ignores her. He drops to his knees next to Steve. “Unhappen,” he whispers. “Unhappen!” 

There’s nothing. As if the Gem lost power. As if . . . 

_We’re on an alien world_ , Steve said. Tony disregarded it immediately back then.

What if Steve wasn’t lying? What if . . . Tony knows the Infinity Gems only work in their native universe. But that’s impossible. That can’t be true. That would mean Steve’s dead, really dead, and it’s Tony’s fault. That’s—no. 

_No_.

He screams, and he shakes Steve by his arms. Nothing happens. Steve doesn’t wake up.

“Tony,” Carol says. “He’s dead.”

“ _No_!” Tony yells. “He can’t be, no, no—”

 _Make it all go away,_ he thinks. _Back to this morning. When he was suiting up with his team, and everyone was alright, **and Steve was alive**_.

It’s not working. Tony scrambles to open the compartment with the Gem. He can see it, right there, he can feel its power—but it’s _not working_. 

It can’t be.

 _Steve is dead_. 

“Pathetic,” someone says. Tony raises his eyes to see the Hulk.

It all slots back into place in his head, a wave of memories. 

The Registration Day parade. The Hulk showing up and teleporting them—and god, Steve was right, Tony’s memories _were_ tampered with, and . . . 

“You’re in the wrong dimension,” the Hulk continues, but Tony’s not listening.

He looks down at Steve, dead before him, dead by his hand. Looks back at the Reality Gem, now useless.

He thinks of all the times he’s killed Steve before and brought him back and he feels sick. Steve was right. Steve was always right, and Tony was a monster.

He puts the repulsor to his own head, and fires without hesitation.

It’s the only right thing he’s done in a while.

**Author's Note:**

> As per the Contest of Champions canon: Tony kills Steve and brings him back with the Reality Gem. This scenario repeats a few times.
> 
> At the end, Tony commits suicide.


End file.
